The Caversham Chronicles ~ the Beginning

Chapter Two-2

They were all well into their cups down there and Amelia wished there was a way to escape the noise. Remembering she still had a book to return to the library, she threw her gray silk wrap about her shoulders, lifted the book and went down the back stairs. The evening before, she’d found the grand library, encompassing two stories of this immense home. The books were all well bound and lovingly cared for, which soothed her book-binder’s soul.

She made her way down to the second floor, the residence level, while the chatter continued below on the first floor. A footman in the hallway was kind enough to open the door and light a candelabra for her at the table near where she’d sat the night before.

“I’ll be right outside the doors, Miss, if you need me to fetch you one from the top shelves,” he said.

“Thank you,” she replied.

With the book from yesterday in hand she went directly to the shelf she’d taken it from and replaced it, then began to scan the contents of the bookcase, looking for another guidebook or book on the local history of Wessex, to find something explaining the stone circle near Somerhill. Once she spied one, she took it to the table in the corner and began to inspect the stability of the aged binding. She carefully turned the pages and began to read the history of the area starting with the arrival of the Romans. An hour later, before she even reached the Norman invasion, she was already bored with the book. Normally she enjoyed history, but tonight found her mind wandering. Closing it, she debated whether to get another or just return to her room.

Looking at the closed door, she heard people talking as they walked up the steps, and decided to stay put until the revelers had found their beds. She heard ribald conversation of the men and women strolling down the hallway to their various doors. The ladies giggled, tipsy from all the alcohol they’d consumed, while giving blatant invitations to the gentlemen. In the hallway, where anyone could hear them. Amelia heard that this sort of thing occurred at these aristocratic house parties, but she’d only half-believed it. To hear it going on so… so out in the open shocked her.

Among the voices, she recognized her aunt’s. “Your Grace,” her aunt cooed, “are you certain you wouldn’t like to come to my room for a glass of wine?”

Amelia stared at the door, horrified. Her aunt was inviting a man to her room! And not just any man either, but the very duke she’d set her cap on. It seemed she’d met and charmed her duke after all. Amelia felt a deep shame for the woman. For herself too, as she was related to her and living under the same roof.

“Perhaps another night, Lady Katherine,” the man said. “I am tired and have a long day ahead….” His voice trailed down the hallway as they went toward their rooms.

That voice too sounded familiar, though she couldn’t exactly place it. For a moment it sounded like Sir, the man she’d met in the maze. But surely not. He didn’t impress Amelia as having a title so lofty as a duke, and Aunt Katherine clearly called this man Your Grace. Too, dukes didn’t go around behaving in such a familiar manner with lowly companions either. Why, according to Aunt Katherine, her father’s family wanted nothing to do with her because of her low birth. And they shared the same ducal relative!

Since she knew she would not be crossing paths with her aunt, Amelia decided it was time to leave her hiding place in the library and return to her tiny suite on the nursery level.

The footsteps in the hallway faded, and when all was quiet she stood and made her way to the door. Before she could reach it, the handle turned and she dove into a darkened corner behind a tall suit of armor. She did not wish to be accosted by a drunken guest as happened at Lady Thetford’s musicale a few weeks earlier. On that particular evening, she’d just been able to evade the clumsy male guest who walked into the ladies retiring room as she was leaving. When he’d grabbed at her, she’d shoved at his shoulders hard, knocking the blundering oaf off balance and sending him to the floor. Amelia ran from the room and back to her seat along the wall of the ballroom where she watched the remainder of the program without incident. She had no idea what happened to the man, and didn’t care.

Her heart raced as she stood with her back pressed against the wall behind the armor of some medieval relative of Lord Merivale’s. Footsteps entered, heavy, masculine-sounding, stopping nearby. She heard him take a seat near the table where she’d been reading. And here she was, trapped until he left! She wondered who it was. Though the armor was shorter than she, mounted on the pedestal base, it was of an equal height to her and she couldn’t see over it or around it without calling attention to herself.

It sounded as though only one person had come in, so it wasn’t lovers looking for a place to have a tryst. Lovers could be hours. She heard the man turn the pages of the book she’d just been reading. As silently as she could, she dared take a peek from behind her sheltering armor and noticed the back of the man’s head. He wasn’t facing her direction and inwardly she rejoiced that she might be able to escape without notice.

Amelia decided it would hurt nothing for her to just leave. As close as she was to the door, she could be in the hallway in a trice. If she remained silent, he might even believe she was a maid. But if the man made eye contact with her or greeted her, she would be obliged to return the greeting before continuing to the exit where hopefully a footman would escort her safely up to her room.

She didn’t want any of the male guests stumbling their way into her rooms. She had to trust the lock would be enough to keep unwanted strangers from nefariously turning her doorknob. Stepping out from behind the case, she held her eyes cast downward to avoid eye contact and quickly made for the door.

“Miss!” It was the voice of the man from the garden. “How long have you been hiding there?”

Wearing a burgundy sateen jacket with black breeches and black boots polished to a mirror perfection, Sir’s gray eyes shone as silver as his waistcoat. He turned in his chair, facing her now that he’d recognized her. The relaxed manner in which he rested against the chair back told her he was at ease in this room, as though he’d been here many times.

“I haven’t been hiding, Sir. I was reading a book and just put it away.” She looked at the hide-bound tome on the table and felt her cheeks burn as though she were under a microscope. Caught fibbing.

“I hope it was more interesting than this history of the region I found.”

“It was.” She tilted her head to the side, in a bob, preparing to leave. “If you will excuse me.” Amelia wanted to get out of there before they were caught, or worse. Though she knew she wasn’t of the same class as this guest, her reputation could be ruined if he accosted her, not his. It would behoove her to leave his company quickly.

Before she could reach for the door handle, he rose and came to her side. “Don’t go,” he said. “I looked for you today. I thought we could continue our conversation. Before you disappeared you were going to tell me who your aunt is.”

Muted footsteps sounded in the hallway but Amelia ignored them, presuming more guests were seeking their rooms. Then the door opened and with the swish of skirt and petticoat, they both heard the voice.

Dread swept up Amelia’s spine just as her aunt asked, “Your Grace? I thought I saw you come this way.”

Sir groaned and took it upon himself to push Amelia back into the gap where’d she been hiding behind the armor. He followed, hiding her behind his masculine bulk.

His broad, hard body shielded her from view, and his scent—a faint bergamot and spice—caused her to weaken in his embrace. And it was a firm hold, unlike how she’d ever been held before. She opened her mouth to warn him that her aunt was in the room, in case he hadn’t heard. The witch was sure to sniff them out, and when Aunt Katherine realized where she was and that she was with a man, her temper was sure to send Amelia straight to a women’s work house.

Then he kissed her.

His body pressed against hers, his lips firm yet soft. He dominated her with them, keeping her from crying out in surprise or fear. One hand braced against the dark paneling to support them, while the other held her close, unwilling to let her flee. Of course he could not know it, but running from him right then was the furthest thing from her mind. And when his tongue touched her lips she sighed, then parted and allowed him entrance. This was her first kiss and she was melting beneath the sweet heat of it.

She had no idea who the man was, other than Sir. And her aunt was on the verge of finding them, which would ruin her. But Amelia gave herself up to the man with the expert lips and manly scent, for he certainly knew how to keep a woman quiet. After a while he abandoned her lips, kissing his way over her jawline toward her ear.

Amelia wanted nothing more than to continue what they were doing, but Aunt Katherine’s footsteps grew closer as she came back toward them. She called out for the duke she’d been looking for and Amelia wanted to tell her the man was not in here. It was just she and her Sir from the garden. A bare finger pressed against her lips as he shushed her, then whispered, “I will protect you.” His fingers twined into the fallen curls at the nape of her neck and his thumb ran along the column of her throat. He had to feel her pulse there, beneath his palm, racing wildly. She had lost all her senses. Amelia had never behaved like this before.

Then Aunt Katherine saw them. Or rather, she saw Sir, for Amelia was hidden behind his massive breadth of chest. His hips pushed her into the wall as his head came down and kissed her again. This time there was something rigid pressing into her that hadn’t been there before, and it continued to rise. Having read some of the books on anatomy that her father had bound for a physician client, Amelia remembered the drawings. This, she felt certain, was the man’s rigid manhood pressing into her lower belly causing her entire body to tremble. She melted further into him, as her hands rose up the smooth fabric of his waistcoat, under the open jacket.

“Your Grace? I didn’t want our evening to end and I thought to….” Aunt Katherine’s voice sounded almost hurt as she took in the scene before her, and Amelia felt a twinge of pity for her.

She pushed at his immovable shoulders with all her might. Oh dear heaven! Aunt Katherine could not find her here, like this, and with Sir!

He lifted his head and pressed a kiss on her temple before turning from her, using his great mass to hide her. Doom. Amelia was doomed. She was surely going to that workhouse now. Those threats were going to be her reality.

“All you had to do, Your Grace, was say you had plans. Though with whom, I cannot venture a guess as you were with us the entire evening.” Aunt Katherine’s voice grated on Amelia’s nerves. “Your actions led me to believe…”

He lifted his head, and replied while looking into Amelia’s eyes. “Nothing, Lady Rawdon, I led you to believe nothing. You made an assumption and you were wrong.”

Lady Rawdon? Her aunt? Sir knew her aunt? Not Sir… He’d responded to… Your Grace? Amelia’s mind reeled. This man was the duke her aunt had been stalking all season?